Iceberg
by Nachtsider
Summary: Told from Triela’s point of view, this tale documents our heroine’s relationship with Elsa, her reaction to the latter’s death and unofficial investigation into the incident, culminating in the discovery of the shocking truth behind it. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This tale, penned by me, Nachtsider, is based on the excellent anime/_manga_ known as 'Gunslinger Girl', which is the brainchild of Yu Aida, and also utilizes the continuity of my two previous yarns, 'A Day in the Life of a Gunslinger Girl' and 'Battlezone'. Told from Triela's point of view, it documents our heroine's relationship with Elsa; her reaction to the latter's death and unofficial investigation into the incident, culminating in the discovery of the shocking truth behind it. **Bearing in mind that all original concepts, characters, their distinctive likenesses and related elements featured in this publication are my property and may not be used without my express permission**, enjoy the story, and feel free to drop this author a line at the relevant electronic mail address (nachtsider at yahoo dot com)!

**ICEBERG**

**CHAPTER ONE: CONFRERE**

It's been some time since I saw Elsa walking sullenly through the Agency grounds. Had her eyes been blue instead of green, her hair done up in ponytails instead of braids and her expression not so harsh, she could easily have passed as my younger sister. Throughout the time that we shared the same environs, I never saw evidence that she had any true friends. Elsa went about her business alone.

My initial meeting with Elsa took place one cool and overcast autumn day, on which Hillshire took me to the firing range to practice my marksmanship skills. There she was, blasting away at the targets with her Sig SG551 and knocking the black out of all the bull's-eyes at a hundred yards' range under the watchful eye of her supervisor, Lauro – a stocky man who looked as intractable as the Rock of Gibraltar.

When I stopped to observe Elsa, she lowered her rifle and looked up at me warily. I was struck by her aforementioned resemblance to me, but what really transfixed me was her cold, soulless look.

Putting on my best smile, I gave her a cheerful greeting and waited for a response. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and strode purposefully towards me.

"Don't bother me," snapped Elsa, biting the tip off each word. "I'm preoccupied."

Then Lauro joined in. "You there," he roared at me. "Get back to work!"

I grudgingly complied. Hillshire frowned at Lauro, who held my supervisor's gaze until they eventually broke eye contact after what seemed like an eternity. Being a girl who is usually eager to be friendly and hospitable to those around me, I was left entirely confused about what I had done to educe such a tirade.

A week later, when Angelica and I were walking home from a mission, a familiar figure strode past us. "Who's that?" I whispered.

"It's Elsa," Angie said. "She's real nasty. The other kids say to stay away from her."

"What's the matter with her?"

"I've got no idea, and I'm not keen on finding out," Angie said as we parted. But unlike Angie, I was determined to probe the matter to the bottom, and eventually found out the reason behind Elsa's unpleasant behavior. Children tend to reflect back what they absorb, and Elsa was no exception. Her conduct was the result of being under the influence of the disagreeable Lauro. Receiving brusque treatment in exchange for her extraordinary devotion to him indubitably worsened the situation.

This sobering revelation made me view Elsa in a different light. The unhappy predicament that she was caught up in was truly heart-rending, and I now felt nothing but sympathy for her.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**

Here's P.S - 'Battlezone' has a related illustration now. Go re-read the author's notes for that story to obtain further details on this special update.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO: CONSCIENTIOUSNESS CONQUERS ALL**

A passage I read in the Agency library's solitary and virtually untouched copy of the Bible began to give me a more enlightened approach to people like Elsa. The parable of the lost sheep, in which a shepard leaves the ninety-nine in search of one that is lost, had particularly hit me. I picked Elsa as my 'lost sheep' and resolved to do something about my poor comrade.

Every time Elsa and I met, I treated her with as much kindness as I could. When off duty, I would offer to share my meals with her or help her with her academic assignments, and when on a mission with Elsa, I would stick close by her and watch her back. My intention was to show Elsa my sincerity in concrete ways. I took plenty of ribbing from my friends and lots of angry glares from Lauro in doing this, but felt that my quest was important enough to transcend my friends' jibes and Lauro's displeasure. Although Elsa completely ignored me, I persisted in my efforts, certain that they would eventually yield results.

It was sometime after our return from Iraq, during one of my rare free days, that I finally hit pay dirt. Strolling through the Agency grounds way after dark to enjoy the refreshing night breeze, I sauntered into the common room to find Elsa sitting alone at the central table, leaning over it with her face buried in her folded arms. Tentatively calling out her name brought no answer, and I assumed she was asleep – until I noticed that her slender frame trembled with sobs.

Greatly alarmed, I hurried over to Elsa's side. Taking her in my arms, I gently asked her what was the matter, and if I could be of any help. She was too distressed to reply immediately, but the fact that she made no attempt whatsoever to resist my advances filled me with elation and hope. Elsa wept openly on my shoulder, and I responded by holding her closer, gently rocking her and stroking her hair.

Some moments passed before she became calm enough to pour out her troubles to me. In tears, Elsa spoke of how her dedication to Lauro and her acceptance for his harshness had finally reached their limit. She sorrowfully related the proceedings of a mission that she and Henrietta had undertaken of late, during which she witnessed first-hand the stark contrast between Lauro and Giuseppe. The latter regularly offered Henrietta kindness and support throughout the job, while her own supervisor severely punished her for performing only slightly below par. This happenstance finally opened Elsa's eyes to the bleak and cruel truth that all this time, she had been altruistically giving to one who did not value nor appreciate her.

I did my utmost to comfort Elsa, telling her that she could always acquire love and respect elsewhere – namely from me and the other Agency kids, so long as she mended her attitude and made absolutely certain that the process of caring was a two-way street. No verbal answer came, but the nod Elsa gave, accompanied by a look in her eyes that was both purposeful and apologetic, spoke louder than any words. A sense of triumph filled me – I had finally succeeded in helping my comrade let go.

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE: CONGENIALITY… AND A CONSEQUENTIAL CONTINGENCY**

From that twilight hour, our days were long, and full of the amazing joy that paces the beginning and run-along rush of any great friendship. A lengthy absence from the Agency on Lauro's part helped our developing relationship in spades. Elsa let her soul flow over into me like a tipped fountain, and I received it, gave it back and was glad. Who could have guessed that we actually had so much in common – including a shared love of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_! ("I see something of myself in each of the characters," Elsa told me. "Picard - one of the most respected personnel in Starfleet. Highly skilled, yet lonely. Keeps feelings in check. Worf – the consummate warrior. Data - android, so no emotion. Logic rules. LaForge – chief engineer. I absolutely relate to the pride he takes in the upkeep of his systems.")

With coaching from me, Elsa trained herself to look at people when they spoke to her, to have a firm handshake, and answer questions with a smile. Old behavior was cracking off her like a shell, and the person inside was a nice, responsible young lady. I eventually deemed Elsa completely ready to be re-integrated among the rest of our comrades, and began formulating a plan for her coming-out into our society and a formal apology that she would deliver to the others. But this never came to fruition – Lauro's eventual return and a reshuffling of timetables resulted in me seeing Elsa less and less, and there eventually came a one-week period during which we were completely unable to meet. When we finally got to see each other again, it would be under circumstances that were unexpected, shocking and tragic in the extreme.

It was Hillshire who left me aghast with news that Elsa and Lauro had been discovered dead in a park on the outskirts of Rome. A bullet wound to the head killed Lauro, and Elsa took a round neatly through the eye-socket - the only spot where a conventional bullet could inflict injury of any kind on an extra-normal junior operative - that pierced her brain and instantly snuffed out her life. The Social Welfare Agency's official verdict regarding the incident was this: left-wing terrorists – almost certainly members of a particularly vicious group affiliated to Padania and who have no qualms about attacking the police – ambushed the pair at the park, and Elsa died trying to protect her supervisor.

No one but Hillshire and I were at the morgue to bid Elsa a final goodbye. Since death had cruelly denied her the opportunity to properly show everyone her rediscovered goodness, all the others only remembered Elsa's former unplesantness and let their abhorrence of her persist. This state of affairs was truly sorrowful, and I wept bitterly and unabashedly for my fallen friend.

On our way out from the morgue, I spotted Liesel standing under a nearby tree, staring blankly at that house of bereavement and looking very sad. She looked as if she wanted to go in, but had not the heart to do so. Her behavior struck me as being highly unusual, for she – like all the other Agency kids bar myself – had never been on good terms with Elsa. I did not get to ask her why she acted in such a way.

My grief over Elsa's passing rapidly turned into cold fury. I promised never to take a prisoner in battle, swearing that I would hence forth coolly and dispassionately ventilate with lead every Padania terrorist who came my way – preferably through the guts. For a time I made good my oath, and must have avenged Elsa almost thirty times over. Hillshire, deeply worried for me, advised me that no measure of retribution would bring Elsa back, and that the hatred that ran through me would in the long run consume and destroy me.

It was not so much the shame I felt in due course about my actions, nor the undeniable truth of my supervisor's words, that eventually ceased my vicious behavior – it was learning the terrible truth about the deaths of Elsa and Lauro that did so. I alone among the Agency kids am fully in the know about what happened that night – revealed to me when I eavesdropped on a whispered conversation between Jean and Chief Lorenzo that took place behind closed doors. The former stated with great consternation that the fatal slugs had both been fired from Elsa's weapon, and the latter, though shaken, ordered for the actual facts to be hushed up by using the aforementioned 'official verdict' as a smokescreen.

Lauro's treatment of Elsa was horrible, and unquestionably warranted punishment. But to have it being dispensed in such a fashion was nothing but dreadful, and I could only wonder what could have transpired between them during the week prior to their deaths that could have spurred Elsa to throw her newfound humanity to the winds and commit such an appalling act. The odds were that she was subjected to something outrageously traumatic. In the end, a brutal logic convinced me that such a conclusion was inevitable, given the fact that Elsa could never truly be free of Lauro's influence. All the same, I was utterly heartbroken, and it was a long, long time before atomic winter no longer infused my soul. It is with deep gratitude that I extend my appreciation to Hillshire for his successful efforts in bringing me back from the brink of despair.

Since Elsa's death, my existence has been pretty much quiet and commonplace. But sometimes, as I sit by the fire on nights when the wind wails in the chimney - nights like the one when her long-held defences crumbled and she opened up to me - my thoughts travel back to Elsa, and to a sad tale of opportunities lost.

**END OF CHAPTER THREE**

P.S. - Another Gunslinger Girl fanfic by yours truly, 'Justice Served', is now readable in the M-rated section of this fanfic archive. Give it a go if you wish!


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR: CONTACT**

I have read a very many tales of the supernatural throughout the course of my life. I scoffed at all of them – until I had a paranormal encounter of my own. This experience, which occurred on the eve of Elsa's first death anniversary, made an instant believer of me. It also got me thinking twice about how Elsa met her end, and kick-started my journey down a hitherto well-concealed path fraught with horrific surprises and deadly danger.

The night I mention saw me tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. I left my quarters for a stroll, endeavoring to find a place where I could properly view the moon in all its radiance. A short walk led me to the room that had the best view of all the rooms in the Agency – Elsa's.

Moonbeams shining through the windows and reflecting off the floor, walls and white-draped furniture of Elsa's room lent it a ghostly beauty. There was an aura of sad serenity about the place, which eventually got to me as I stood observing the heavens. I found myself thinking about Elsa, and whispered to the stars that I hoped she had found peace, wherever she might be now.

It was at this point that I realized I was not alone. The sound of somebody else's labored breathing reached my ears. The noise was coming from the tarpaulin-covered bed.

In little more than a second, I had drawn my Sig Sauer P230 SL and assumed a 'combat crouch' stance, taking a solid aim at the bed. "Come out of that, whoever you are," I ordered, my voice sounding like a thunderclap in the silence of the room.

"Get cracking before I color that wall behind you in a nice shade called 'hint of brain'," I snarled. But there was no answer save the breathing, which went on at an erratic pace.

I cautiously approached the bed and flung the cover off. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes – the sight of Elsa's haggard and drawn shade lying supine before me, nothing but a gore-stained hospital sheet offering her unclothed body any decency. She weakly turned to look at me, her face deathly pale and fixed in an expression of great anguish. All that remained of her right eye and much of the area around its socket was a frightful mess of blood and bone, and her left eye, which brimmed with tears, regarded me with a kind of pleading.

For the first time in my life I felt like shrieking my lungs out, but no cry exited my mouth and I hyperventilated instead. I stood rooted to the spot in stark terror as Elsa pointed slowly and painfully to one of the windows. I glanced out this portal to see that it overlooked Liesel's apartment. When I turned to look at the bed once more, it was empty. Elsa's whispered voice echoed around the room: the single word 'murder'. Then my nerve broke, and I did not stop running until I was back in my quarters.

Needless to say, seeing a ghost did nothing to help my insomnia, and I remained wide-awake until dawn. After a time, however, the intense fear permeating my mind faded away to be replaced by utter befuddlement. It was understandable that Elsa would choose to make an appearance close to her death anniversary, and equally comprehensible that she would choose to appear to me – the only person who ever looked out for her. But what did she mean by the word 'murder'? And how did Liesel, whose room Elsa had indicated, fit into the picture?

Somehow, I felt that the answers to my questions lay with Liesel. My hunch grew stronger upon recalling something that I had scarcely paid any attention to previously – ever since Elsa's death, a change had come over Liesel. She had always been a pensive little dreamer, but she acted more detached than ever of late, and her face, ghostly as it normally was, now seemed a whiter shade of pale, often wearing a haunted look – the infamous 'bulkhead stare' that betrayed great emotional stress.

There was one thing that I absolutely had to do – question my friend as to what she knew about this matter. However, I had utterly no idea what to say to Liesel, and I must admit that I probably would have bungled everything had I initiated the conversation. It was, indeed, immensely fortunate that she ended up being the one who got the ball rolling.

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE: PLAYING CONFIDANTE… AND BEING BESET BY CONFUSION**

"A whole year may have gone by since Elsa died, since I stood scared stiff before that dreadful tableau that was the scene of her death. But the entire horror of what happened would seize my soul every night afterwards, and like a boreal blast it would sweep away my peace of mind, composure and equanimity like clouds scattered by a hurricane, leaving me cold, alone and afraid in the gloom.

"Occasionally it was dreams of Elsa. They were always the same – with stooped shoulders and dragging feet, her specter would wander around a darkened burial ground aimlessly, her lips moving as though trying to tell me something. I would struggle to hear what she was saying. She seemed tormented by pain and misery. I felt she was begging me for help. The most awful thing was that I felt powerless to assist her.

"For the most part, though, it was nightmares of me going down like Elsa did – sometimes worse. You see, Elsa's death brought me to realize that none of us – not even the best of us – can defy the Reaper, and it caused me to no longer feel as invincible as I once used to. Sure, I was petrified to death, but I just couldn't acknowledge that I was scared. You know as well as I do that one of the responsibilities of veterans like us is to serve as good examples to the juniors. Their morale would indubitably plunge if they saw their 'insuperable elder sister-in-arms' crack under pressure. So I compartmentalized my fear, kept my chin up and lived in my own private little hell for the others' sake."

Such was the nature of the distress that plagued Liesel, as she personally related to me in a tearful and heartfelt tell-all session that transpired the following twilight in the seclusion of my room, during which I commiserated with my friend, silently marveled at her remarkable act of self-sacrifice and did my utmost to offer comfort and lift her spirits, meeting with much success. By the time I took Liesel back to her lodgings, she looked almost like the Liesel of old – much of the weariness and strain seemed to have gone, and her look now reflected more of solace than hurt. Although I knew that a total mental recovery would come only later, this had been an essential step in the right direction.

Relief and tranquility normally flood me whenever I help a friend surmount a hurdle in his or her existence, but the feeling that pervaded me as I made my way back to my apartment could not have been more disparate – it was that of having your world taken apart piece by piece and reassembled upside-down. Finally I comprehended why Liesel had been so affected by Elsa's death – she had been a principal component of the team that conducted the investigation into the deaths of Elsa and Lauro, and the close scrutiny to which she subjected the crime scene resulted in every harrowing facet being embossed upon her memory. At long last did I also appreciate why Elsa had requested that I sought out Liesel – she possessed numerous facts pertaining to the killings, which she freely offered me and which clearly indicated that, all this while, I had been gravely, gravely mistaken about how the pair had met their end.

My friend's statement revealed that on the night before Elsa was killed, Liesel and Altheus had been among several _fratello _teams – she could no longer recollect who the others were – out and about performing a variety of missions, theirs being to eradicate a Padania nest situated in the slums of Rome. After successfully completing their mission, they reached home shortly after midnight struck, and Liesel passed twenty minutes with a shower and a snack before retiring. Altheus roused her at 0645 hours. Elsa and Lauro's bodies had been found twenty minutes before in a park on the outskirts of Rome by an early-morning jogger. The police were summoned. Captain Enzo Spinelli, the Agency's contact within the police force, was notified, and he alerted Chief Lorenzo and the other administrators as soon as he verified whom the victims were.

Altheus informed Liesel that their orders from the Chief were to investigate the crime scene and determine exactly what happened – her heightened senses would be invaluable in detecting evidence of even the most obscure kind. He then issued a gag order, telling his protégée not to discuss the matter with anyone: it was, he stressed, 'a secret operation'. It was to a certain extent due to this gag order that Liesel had kept mum about what had happened to her, never telling anybody about the sheer terror, and it was this gag order that nearly proved to be her undoing. Only when she defied it and began revealing what had happened did the load on her shoulders begin to lighten. Painful though it may have been, it was an effective way of dealing with the tragedy, and I gave Liesel full assurance that her secret was safe and secure with me.

Liesel's enquiries of Altheus as to what Elsa and Lauro had been doing at the park revealed, much to my shock, that utterly nothing negative had taken place between my late friend and her supervisor throughout the week prior to their deaths during which I had been unable to meet her. In fact, the worm of conscience had eaten its way into Lauro's heart – he had finally realized the error of his ways and had been making a serious effort to give his protégée the love and kindness that she rightfully needed. What had been their final night out was actually to have been the first of many endeavors to repair the bond between the two – Lauro had made it known before leaving that he would be feting Elsa at her favorite eating place before heading off to the park, which had a special significance to the twosome, for it was there that Lauro first discovered the poor, famished, homeless little waif who would become his protégée and my friend. Although a sense of consolation filled me at knowing that Lauro had died repentant, this could not outweigh the pain I felt over how happy everything could have turned out if he and Elsa had not perished. Fate, I reflected bitterly, is truly a cruel thing. I also dwelled with much shame and regret on how rapid I had been to presuppose that a motivation for such an act could have existed on Elsa's part, without first conducting any investigation into the matter.

An approximately ten-minute drive brought Liesel and Altheus to the crime scene, which had been systematically cordoned off and was under close guard by personnel from the Agency, who had taken over from the police a short while ago. Jean was running the show, and among the other faces Liesel recognized were Georgio, Nihad and Olga. They immediately granted the _fratello_ team access, informing them that everything was perfectly preserved, left as it was discovered. Jean ordered Liesel to begin her investigation while he conferred with Altheus. When Liesel wondered why she was the only extra-normal junior operative on the scene, Jean answered her question in his usual blunt fashion: 'You're the only one whom we can rely on to keep her lips sealed.'

All this while, I had presumed that the park where Elsa and Lauro were killed had been situated a great distance away from the Agency, having been simply told that it lay on 'the outer reaches of Rome'. But then again, the Agency was also sited on the capital's periphery, and it had never occurred to us that both places could have been in close proximity to one another. Hence, the knowledge of how close the park actually was to the Agency came to me as another immense surprise. An extra-normal junior operative running at full pelt could travel from the Agency to the park and back in half the time it would take a car to get there.

The first thing Liesel had a look at was the area outside the park, including the spot where Lauro's jeep was discovered. Judging from the tire tracks she found and examined, Elsa and Lauro had come to the park at around midnight after spending time at the abovementioned restaurant and a Rome shopping mall – these movements confirmed by reliable witness accounts and by items found in the jeep – and their vehicle had been the only one anywhere near the park at or around the time. The pair trod in a patch of mud after exiting the jeep, and this made them leave a trail of easily discernible footprints all the way into the park – the only relevant or useful tracks she found anywhere within the area. These were, indeed, highly peculiar characteristics – the first of a very many that the entire crime scene was lousy with. Liesel's outlook at the time was that whoever killed Elsa and Lauro must have parked their vehicle some distance away from the park, and then very circumspectly made their final approach on foot, taking expert care not to leave a trail.

Next, Liesel analyzed Elsa and Lauro's footprints, following their path all the way up to where they were killed. They had been walking abreast – Elsa at Lauro's right – in a west-east direction. After a hundred paces or so, they were in the act of turning south – Elsa ending up slightly ahead of Lauro as they did so – when the fateful moment struck.

They were attacked head-on, Lauro being hit between the eyes by a single shot. He fell on his back, lying on a north-south axis with his head pointing north. As soon as Lauro went down, Elsa stopped in her tracks and fired twice in the enemy's direction – as evidenced by her Sig Sauer P229 and the spent casings that she left behind, which were, most unusually, the only weapons or ammunition Liesel found at the scene. Return fire then came in the form of another single shot, which passed neatly through Elsa's right eye and into her cranium. She fell on her right side, lying on an east-west axis with her head pointing west.

Picturing in my head how Elsa and Lauro lay as Liesel delivered her narrative, I gradually become conscious of the fact that although bodies can fall in all kinds of goofy positions after a shooting, the positions that Liesel described were wholly inconsistent with a murder-suicide. I was also struck by the details of the resistance that Elsa had put up – Liesel's portrayal of the direction in which Elsa had fired was another signpost that pointed away (no pun intended) from my original postulations.

The actual shooting could not have lasted more than five seconds, said Liesel, but the lack of evidence pointing to the perpetrators' presence indicated that they must have lingered a little longer at the crime scene after the deed had been done. Knowing how Elsa could handle a weapon, there was no doubt that her shots must have registered hits on something. Indeed, Liesel found no substantiation of the implausible probability of Elsa missing her target(s). However, and most perplexingly, the only bloodstains she discovered were Elsa's and Lauro's. This signified to Liesel that they had most probably been outnumbered – in Liesel's scenario of what had occurred, Elsa must have only been able to eliminate perhaps one or two of the opposition before being overwhelmed by the others. Liesel's opinion regarding the lack of evidence was that the surviving assailants then cleaned up everything they had left behind – bloodstains, dropped weapons and spent casings – before making a break for it, taking their casualties with them.

By the time Liesel inspected the corpses, she was almost overcome by emotion. "Many of us, including me, fell foul of Elsa's skill for verbal wounding and her unwillingness to suffer gladly anyone she regarded as incompetent," she told me very somberly. "But I never held a grudge against her nor wished her any misfortune, and when I set eyes upon her poor little body… I nearly broke down, and instantly forgave Elsa for all the hurt she had caused me. It is a fact both tragic and brutal that none of the others – save perhaps Henrietta – share my feelings. Even in her grave, they hate her still." Although greatly hurt and infuriated by the attitude of my comrades, I now knew that I was far from alone in my standpoint towards Elsa, and this gladdened my heart.

Elsa and Lauro had sustained no other injuries bar the single bullet wounds to their heads. There was no powder blackening in or around the wounds, indicating that neither of the shots had come from less than ten feet away – this was undeniably the final nail in the coffin for the murder-suicide theory. The bullet that killed Elsa had shattered upon entry, but that did not prevent her from ascertaining it to be a nine-millimeter Parabellum pistol slug. The one that killed Lauro was still whole and was of an identical type, but Liesel had been uncertain as to whether both rounds had been fired from the same weapon or otherwise. She eventually decided that the latter verdict was probably the correct one – it being exceedingly dubious that one individual could mete out two near-consecutive direct hits – but only proper ballistic testing could tell for sure. To her knowledge, such an examination did take place later on, but she had never been privy to the results. The astonishing accuracy with which both rounds were fired made it very viable to Liesel that the ammunition had not been fired from handguns, but from carbine-type weapons fitted with advanced target-acquisition equipment.

After finishing, Liesel reported her findings and deductions in full. Jean looked grimly satisfied, but said nothing. Altheus gently led her back to his car after her debriefing, and they made the journey home in complete silence. Liesel made it clear to me that her inferences had been hotly debated upon being analyzed, but the Agency's official statement regarding the incident, released shortly afterwards, apparently drew from the report she provided.

Understandably, my stance on Liesel's rather implausible interpretation of the clues was one of amazement and skepticism. In point of fact, Liesel herself had been – and still was – rather mystified by the crime scene evidence and did not wholly believe in what she had gleaned. However, she was unable to draw any better conclusions based on the discoveries she had made. Admittedly, she had done the very best she could, working from nothing but cold, hard facts and pulling her duty off with highly commendable skill, professionalism and objectivity. I could not possibly duplicate nor surpass Liesel's feat, and therefore could not reject her findings either.

Notwithstanding the fact that the crime scene had been chock-full of odd and inexplicable features that greatly troubled and confused me, it was no longer a matter of disputation what had happened to Elsa and Lauro. The pair had not fallen victim to a murder-suicide as I had so stupidly assumed – a third party who was still at large had butchered them in cold blood. Neither was it an issue of dissertation what role I was required to play in this. Elsa was crying out for justice to be served, and it was my duty to avenge her as well as redeem myself. The time for mulling over what had happened to the pair had now long passed, and I now deliberated over _who_ could have possibly perpetrated the terrible deed.

I speculated, with much anguish and frustration, why Elsa had not told me what had happened to her or, more importantly, who had committed her murder immediately on the night she appeared to me. Doing so would have undeniably eased my burden to a great extent and permitted the mystery to be solved more promptly. Then, the answer came to me as I recalled a time long past when Claes and I once read that spirits of the dead are bound by certain celestial restrictions on the rare occasions that they are permitted to pay calls on and communicate with their loved ones. Elsa's inability to provide me with the crucial information that I sought was, in all likelihood, one of these constraints. _Bloody red tape_, I thought sullenly, but eventually came to the realization that I should consider myself immensely fortunate to have Elsa appear and tell me anything at all.

Could it have been the Padania terrorists who killed Elsa and Lauro, as the Agency's official statement had announced and as I had originally believed? After some study, I concluded that they could be exonerated entirely. For starters, no outsiders could have possibly known about the whereabouts of Elsa and Lauro, much less the weakness of the former – both bits of information were secrets closely guarded by the Agency. Even if it were someway feasible for the terrorists to possess this knowledge, why would they single out this _fratello_ team for eradication despite other teams that were equally lucrative targets also being out that night, like Liesel and Altheus, for example? Also, whoever killed Elsa and Lauro did the job very cleanly and with incredible accuracy – something no terrorist (or any other normal human being, for that matter), however well trained, could have accomplished, considering Elsa's superhuman capabilities. Lastly, and most tellingly, had Padania come up with a means to best extra-normal junior operatives in combat, they would definitely have attempted to eliminate as many of us as possible every time we tangled with them and would certainly have met with success, but on no occasion following Elsa's death did the rogues display any comprehension whatsoever of our weakness – instead, they continued to die like flies before our guns.

My mind was blank for several moments subsequent to these thoughts. Then, a new and horrifying solution to my query hit me like an Aurora reconnaissance plane traveling at full throttle. Who could have possibly known about the whereabouts of Elsa and Lauro, much less the weakness of the former? Why would they single out this _fratello_ team for eradication despite other teams that were equally lucrative targets also being out that night? How could they have performed the killing so cleanly and with such incredible accuracy? The answer to all these questions was this: _Elsa and Lauro had been killed by one of our own – a fellow extra-normal junior operative who bore a deep grudge against her and wanted her dead._

As much as I was initially revolted at and refused to subscribe to the idea that one of my friends could be the perpetrator of such a monstrous act, I was also amazed and horrified at the fact that the suggestion certainly provided effective resolutions for all the abnormalities present at the crime scene. Firstly, it would have been no mean feat for one of ours to have found out where Elsa and Lauro had gone, and for what purpose, without arousing any suspicion – observe the effortlessness with which Liesel obtained answers to these queries from her supervisor, Altheus. Secondly, an extra-normal junior operative's incredibly light tread and phenomenal agility would explain why the murderer left no trail – infiltration and exfiltration sans leaving behind any footprints are feats that any of us can execute with no difficulty. Thirdly, an extra-normal junior operative's heightened senses and superhuman capabilities would explain the extraordinary precision with which the murder was committed. The cream of our crop could very well have pulled off such a kill without even having to resort to the 'carbine-type weapons fitted with advanced target-acquisition equipment' that Liesel alluded to. Fourthly, an extra-normal junior operative's lightning speed and imperviousness to conventional bullets would explain why the assailant had seemingly escaped unharmed. It is a fact that, fast though Elsa was, there are a handful of kids from our Agency – and Childville, too – who are even faster. Had Elsa been confronted with one of these individuals that night, the murderer would have been swift enough to dodge Elsa's shots altogether or, more likely, cause Elsa to register hits on anywhere but the assailant's Achilles' heel – hits that would have inflicted no damage whatsoever. Lastly, where motive was concerned, Elsa's skill for verbal wounding and disinclination to suffer fools gladly had made her multitudes of enemies among the other Agency kids. I did not require Liesel's statements to know that many of my comrades abhorred Elsa to a frightening degree – who knows how many of them wished her dead?

It was true that the case in favor of this conjecture was no doubt purely circumstantial, and any given item on the above list by itself might mean little enough, but taken together it had all the force of 'a trout in the milk', and amounted to a very weighty indictment. The more I chewed it over, the more the scenario became extremely probable. Everything just fitted together with a hideous click.

Of all the points on my list, it was the last one that bothered me immensely. Had Liesel been able to recall which operatives had been out that night, they could have been ruled out entirely as suspects, because they would have been under the close watch of their supervisors and would have been nowhere near the scene of the crime. But Liesel had not, and this meant that _any one_ of my comrades – save Liesel, of course, who was entirely above suspicion, and Henrietta, who bore Elsa no resentment – could be the face behind the killer's bloodthirsty mask.

No less unsettling were the following thoughts. Having reason to believe that one of my comrades had committed a cold-blooded act of fratricide, and might well attempt more... _what was I to do?_ Under normal circumstances, naturally, I would simply have informed my superiors. Such was indeed my duty, and by failing to do so I was myself breaking the rules. But how could I possibly approach Hillshire and announce that I believed the murderer of Elsa and Lauro to be one of our own – one known for her services in the fight against Italy's enemies; one known to be loyal to the Agency and her brethren? Even supposing that I was not clapped immediately into a straightjacket, what proof could I adduce in support of my accusation? The pathetic answer: only some scraps of circumstantial minutiae. Also, resorting to this course of action would get Liesel into serious trouble, and this I certainly did not want to happen. But if I could not pass on my responsibilities to others, then I would have to shoulder them myself… _where_, I reflected with a deep sense of foreboding, _would that road lead me?_

Before long, I had to stop thinking lest the feelings of dread, indecision and powerlessness, which already had a firm hold on my psyche, engulf me completely. The grinding to a halt of my train of thought brought about a new realization, though – the awareness of just how incredibly weary I was. My eyelids were drooping, my limbs lay limp and my head was pressing upon my chest like a lead ball. After all, I had been awake nearly all night, and I was desperately tired. The strain was too much for me – I soon gave in to the fatigue and plunged headlong into a well of black exhaustion.

Come morning, however, I woke to find all my certainties in smoking ruins and that the arguments leading to them had all fled, thanks to the re-emergence of a long-lost memory from the murkiest depths of my mind – the memory of having overheard Jean reporting to Chief Lorenzo that ballistic tests had confirmed the firing of both fatal shots from Elsa's Sig. The contradiction between the data I gleaned from my eavesdropping and that which I obtained from Liesel was as plain as a pikestaff – Elsa and Lauro could not have been murdered by a third party had Elsa's weapon been the dealer of death.

The skill of Liesel and the Agency's personnel as investigators could not be doubted, and neither could their honesty. Jean would have had no reason to feed his superior misinformation regarding a matter as important as the loss of a _fratello_ team in action, and Liesel had always been a girl of great integrity, her recent confession being as forthright and sincere as forthright as sincere could get. Certainly, my information could not be faulty or untrue… _so_ j_ust what the devil was going on?_

Once more, my poor beaten brain was snowed under by confusion, which beleaguered me throughout the hours of daylight and prevented me from competently carrying out any of my tasks. It was, indeed, a great mercy that this state of mind would not persist, thanks to my later unearthing of new and even more chilling information.

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**


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